The Reign is Over – Part 16
Hi everyone!
I know this is the second post of the day, but it’s duplication with purpose.
The reality is that The Reign is Over has being for awhile. A super, duper, ultra-omega extra long while. That’s not a bad thing! But, it is a thing that hasn’t really happened at The Quill before. As such, there’s been a bit of sticker shock for people who continue to tune in wondering when there will be a shift to a new story… and then one never arrives.
When The Quill gets new readers, having them pop in for the first time and land face-first in part fifteen of a (most likely) thirty part series is disorienting for them. Vexing, even. And it’s shown up in a lot of ways which have left me with only one option: I need to go ahead and separate story posts into two distinct features for the time being. That means a little extra writing (two blog posts isn’t nothing), but it also means that should I have another story go full Reign is Over, I can simply transition to this new style of double-posts. This allows me to avoid the same growing pains I’ve experienced thus far, while still making sure I give new readers a way in.
It’s all learning experiences for me, and so long as I keep my eyes open and don’t cover my ears I can keep making forward progress. Refusing to acknowledge what has happened and make changes accordingly would be the only way to fail. I’ve done something remarkable: Over the course of two solid months, I have continued to write the same story, post in and post out. I whiffed once, but even then came back at it Wednesday of that week.
Being a writer has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s required a commitment that I hadn’t even realized I was capable of. I know that family and marriage are also commitments, but those have immediate and tangible benefits. Writing doesn’t.
To date, being an author has involved thousands of hours of work and practice, study, and effort. And it hasn’t paid anything. I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and the work that I’ve been doing is getting noticed by people who are extremely good at writing. That means a lot to me, and I’m grateful for it. It’s up to me to make good on that promise.
To that end, we proceed. Excelsior!
The Reign is Over – Part 16
Lieutenant McNamara swallowed, mouth thick with the taste of bile. Her hands were slick with sweat as she absently clenched and un-clenched them. She had no choice however, so she went ahead and started the most important comm of her life.
On her helmet viewscreen a sharp faced man appeared. A man who looked thirty, but was really closer to sixty. His features were a testament to the vast wealth required for de-aging clinics, facial creams, and synthetic connective tissues. He had raven colored hair, burning blue eyes, and a smug sneer a kilometer wide.
“Why Lieutenant McNamara, what a surprise!”
Every millimeter of his face showed that it was no such thing. He frowned, forehead furrowing as he put on a mocking air of thought.
“I suppose there really is only one reason you’d be calling me like this. Heard from our good friend Captain Walsh have we?”
McNamara ground her teeth, wanting nothing more than to blast that stupid expression off Laszlo Reignover’s face, but he was right. Captain Walsh was exactly why she was calling, and despite her rage and Walsh’s betrayal, she had nine other souls who needed her to be calm and get them the hell out of this mess. No matter what it cost her pride.
“Yes. You know why I’m calling. We’re both locked in this trap, and we both need to get out. I need your… need your h… h-h-ell….”
Laszlo discarded the mockery and condescension, looking at Lieutenant McNamara with a deadly serious expression.
“Are you saying, after marching through my house, killing or capturing all my men, and after all the casualties we have inflicted in turn, that you are willing to work with me?”
McNamara’s face went a ruddy grey, soon replaced by a violent red as she swelled fit to burst. Lieutenant Armsworth, sensing danger, reached out and placed a huge hand on hers. He didn’t try telling her what to do because no one could do that. He just reminded her that he was there. She looked at him, remembering that she had dragged them into this mess. She would pay anything to get them out of it, even if the cost was her pride. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, exhaled slowly, and opened them once more.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. You’re my only way out of here, and my officer’s lives are worth more than my desire to see your innards sprayed across a wall.”
The grave look gave way to a thoughtful as he slowly stroked his chin with a bright, metallic finger.
“Do you promise to work with me honestly? To cease all attempts to kill or arrest me?”
McNamara bristled, but she bit out a response that could pass for polite. Sort of.
“Yes. Until this crisis is resolved and my officers are safe, I will cease all my attempts. You have my word on it. What about you? Are you willing to stop trying to kill us long enough to save your own skin?”
Laszlo let out a quick bark of laughter.
“Why Lieutenant, I didn’t know you cared so. Of course I want to save my own skin. Fine. Although you are not my first choice of partners, I don’t know that I can get out of here on my own. You have my word that until this crisis is over, I shall not harm you nor any of your men.”
And that was that. Laszlo was a brutal, merciless man who wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to slaughter a bus full of innocent bystanders if that’s what it took to get his message across. But through it all, over-arching the whole of his evil empire, was one incontrovertible truth: He never lied. Not to anyone. Not ever. It was part of what made him so damn scary. When he gave his word, he meant it. Always.
“Fine. Then first things first Reignover, I need a show of good faith. Send us a medic, unarmed, and help me get my team into fighting shape. We’ve a lot of work to do, and I can’t do it hobbling about.”
He looked at her a long time, then nodded. He touched a buzzer, and gave a quick set of directions that McNamara couldn’t hear despite the fact she had heard him click on the intercom and could hear him drumming his fingers. Yet another show of wealth and force. He could’ve simply ended the connection or muted her, but instead he showed off some nameless gadget which must’ve cost him a fortune. McNamara let out a low curse. He’d never tell him in a million years, but it was a damned effective demonstration of his continued power over her. He could give any orders he wanted, and there wasn’t one thing she could do about it.
A few moments later, a white flag poked into the storage bay and began waving. McNamara rolled her eyes.
“You can come in. So long as you’re civil, we won’t blast you.”
A non-com entered, eying the lowered rifles and dismissing them instantly. She had the three knotted red and gold braids of all licensed physicians upon her right shoulder and a portable med center slung over her back. She walked over to the officers, assessing each as she did.
Lieutenant McNamara relaxed. Reignover had kept his word and then some, and as the doctor set up shop with the mindless ease of long practice McNamara turned her attention to the matter of their survival.
She still had a long way to go.
To be continued…
Doctorfully,
The Unsheathed Quill
